Here I Am Brother Dear
by ilovemyboys
Summary: A drugged Sherlock enlists the help of his dearest brother.
1. Surprise Brother!

**Surprise Brother!**

By ilovemyboys

Chapter 1: Here I Am, Brother Dear

Sherlock slowly dragged himself along the dark, London streets lit only by a few dimly lit lamps. He could see the streets fine but his eyes simply wouldn't catch up with his brain. Or the other way around... Sherlock wasn't sure. But what he was sure of was the consistent feeling of his arms and hands gaining a fuzzy feeling that made them feel weak. As if hanging loosely. His legs too felt like they might buckle at any movement, taking away all control Sherlock had of his body, which radiated small amounts of heat.

As the Holmes son dragged himself along, he felt a bit of heat on his neck.

Just a half hour ago the detective was on the heels of a possible suspect in a homicide case involving a potential secret lover. However, while at the crime scene Sherlock found evidence detailing something else was amiss. While the women murdered had signs of a struggle and choke marks around her skin, she also had a puncture on her neck. Long story short, he tracked the man in question down and after a lengthy chase cornered him in an alleyway.

"Freeze! You're under arrest," Sherlock warned as he blocked the only way out.

The man only laughed.

"What's so funny? Being jailed up for the rest of your life isn't good enough?"

"Mr. Holmes…" the man spoke slowly with a dirty grin, crooked yellow teeth and all.

"How do you know my name?" Sherlock asked slowly.

"I make it my business to know anyone who's on my case. Such as yourself," he answered.

"Good. Then you also know there is no escape for you."

"I doubt that," the man gave a sly smile.

"Oh I sincerely think so-ah!" Sherlock's cheeky response was interrupted by a headlock from behind by an unknown assailant as he struggled around the large arms holding him in place as the man in question walked slowly up to his face.

"I don't like private investigators. Or detectives for that matter...Always snooping in my business…" the man breathed on the detective.

"Well Mr. Holmes...I know how much you love to be a part of murders...So this time I'll let you feel it up and personal…" The man smiled before Sherlock suddenly felt an all too familiar needle on the side of his neck before it was gone.

In only moments he could feel the effects of the drug taking place inside him. Although he had built up a resilience to most basic recreational drugs, this one was different. Stronger…

As the world around him seemed to turn, his clarity got hazy. Something was...off…

Attempting to shake it away, Sherlock shook his head, slightly surprised he now had the movement to do so. Struggling, he managed to open his eyes to see both men gone. Attempting to get to a standing position, he staggered toward a nearby wall as he leaned up against it. Breathing quickly, he knew in what coherent part of his mind was left that he needed to get help. And soon.

And so here he was, racking his mind palace for all relevant data concerning his present condition. Oh an ambulance could come, if he could even dial the number with his trembling hands, but no. Definitely not that.

Looking around, his mind highlighted every sign he saw. Getting a better idea of his location led him to only one option.

… ….. …..

A staggering man in a long, black coat made his way toward a large estate, tripping over yard decorations along the way through the grass before making his way onto the marble pillared porch.

Sherlock's glassy eyes stared the large, wooden door that slowly moved in and out as if made of jello.

" _Oh quiet you!"_ He yelled.

Lifting up an arm as if it was made of lead, he slowly brought his hands together to form a fist before...

 _Bang!...Bang!...Bang!…._

Seeing that the door did not open for him right away, he knelt forward, his elbow pressed against it as it held his weight while his other hand kept knocking.

" _Answer, answer...she said...text me...pretty woman…"_ he slurred, his head dropping down.

" _I sing a SONG of great proportions-wha!"_ The younger Holme's weight fell forward as the door was flung open, his feet barely catching his fall as he landed on the red carpet of the hallway.

"Sir! What is the meaning of this!?"

Looking up slowly, the image of what appeared to be a rather fat man with a black suit, partially blended with smoothed-backed hair, a crooked nose, and narrowed eyes looked him down as he blurred in and out of focus.

" _Faaaat eyes…."_ Sherlock fumbled.

"I **beg** your pardon, sir-"

"Gregory! What's going on?" An all too familiar voice called angrily from a nearby door now flung open.

"Sir, I'm sorry but-"

"Brother!" Sherlock shouted upon seeing the older Holmes over the shoulder of the man.

Mycroft's irritated face immediately turned into one of shock. Then concern. _Sherlock was_ _ **here?**_

Something was wrong. He could see it all over his brother's body. His glassy eyes, wavering body, sweaty forehead, not to mention coming here willingly.

"Sherlock…"he said slowly. "What happened?" The elder Holmes demanded as he stared into his brother's eyes.

" _Well I…."_ Sherlock began, but before he could say anything more, felt the world around him slowly turn sideways followed by a thud and his brother's shocked face and mouth shouting something he couldn't hear over the buzzing in his ears. And then...nothing.


	2. Butterfly effect or just butterflies?

By ilovemyboys

Chapter 2: Butterfly effect or just butterflies?

The detective awoke to hearing some muffled voices and a strange ringing in his ears. Opening his eyes he first noticed the arm of the couch he was lying on and slowly brought his hand out to touch it.

 _So fuzzy..._ he thought.

Hearing the light tone of voices nearby he slowly turned his head, to see his brother and the butler talking in hushed tones.

" _We can't do a hospital. It will only make him worse. Is the doctor coming?"_

" _Yes sir. It will be here soon-"_

" _I'm not SICK!"_ Sherlock shouted to the surprise of both men who turned to look at him.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft hurriedly rushed over to his brother as he bent down in front of him, eyes full of worry.

"Sherlock, what happened?"

The detective was about to answer with some snarky remark before realizing he didn't indeed know the answer.

Deducting as much himself the elder Holmes put a hand against his brother's forehead.

Too warm.

"Dammit" he hissed, standing up.

"Gregory, get me a thermometer at once," Mycroft demanded.

Sherlock noticed the man nodding before running off.

"-lock?...Sherlock?" A voice demanded his attention.

" _What?"_ Sherlock answered groggily as he opened his eyes once again to see his brother bent over at his level.

"Sherlock, what happened? _Think,"_ he said.

Slowly closing his eyes, the detective tried to remember. Tried to see what happened...But...only images…

"Sherlock," the voice brought him back as he opened his eyes once more to see his older brother's face swim in and out.

" _Mycroft…"_ Sherlock started in a low voice. " _The murder...not a spousal thing...d...dr...drugs…"_

"Sherlock are you telling me you got involved with a _drug case?"_ Mycroft hissed in the most controlled voice he could muster. His brother knew to stay far away from those cases!

" _I didn't take any..."_ Sherlock tried to defend himself in his weakest voice possible.

"Oh so it's okay then to get that close?"

The elder Holmes was reaching a point where he would get cross.

Sherlock moaned as he slid his head back down against the cushion.

"Sir, here you are," the butler's voice came across faintly.

"Good. Sherlock open your mouth."

Sherlock barely made an effort before a thermometer was put in.

 _Everything was going in and out...what was….what was all this…_

His head was dizzy now. Any movement made him feel sick.

" _100.2. Damn it!"_ Mycroft's voice echoed in Sherlock's mind.

Even in his current state, Sherlock could feel his brother's eyes on him.

 _Knock, knock, knock!_

" _I'll get the door, sir."_

" _Quickly do so"_

Sherlock could hear voices. Are they bad...or good.? Suddenly he felt he had to know. Slowly rolling out of the bed he made his way towards the sounds, feeling his body sway back and forth as he did so while maintaining the level of a headache he now felt.

 _I need to get away somehow...No...that's wrong...Or is it right? Something's...something's wrong…_ He thought.

 _Bump!_

Finding he hit something soft, Sherlock looked up to see his brother yet again. As he felt his balance take him back, he was caught by steady hands bringing him back as his cheek landed on a shoulder. His arms were sagging, his legs were about to give out.

" _Mycroft…"_ he mumbled.

"Yes brother?"

" _Mycroft you...you don't win this round...I do…"_ He continued to mumbled incoherently.

"As you say," Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, come on, get back on the couch."

" _What couch?"_ Sherlock's response was met with him immediately sliding down his brother's arms before his wrists were grabbed and he felt himself lowered to the carpet

 _This is nice...I will stay here..._ he thought.

" _Sherlock. Get up,"_ a voice called from the distance. " _Come on Sher….or's here..."_

Opening his eyes once again, the sleuth was met with a woman in her early 40's. Reddish blonde hair in a bun, hazel eyes, red lipstick, a white coat. Only one possible conclusion. Sherlock opened his eyes wide, staring at nothing.

" _A red herring with a blouse! That's not for you…._

"Sherlock, pull yourself together," Mycroft testily warned his brother.

"Let me take a look," the doctor spoke

Taking out a light, she shined lights into both eyes of the younger Holmes. Turning the flashlight off she then proceeded to take his temperature, which remained at 102 degree F. After that she felt his pulse and looked him over once more, taking note of the prick in his neck.

"Is he in serious danger?" Mycroft asked seriously.

Sighing the woman turned to Mycroft.

"In all honestly, it could be a multitude of answers. Perhaps a tranquilizer to slow him down, or a drug high in euphoria to keep him at bay from investigating whatever it was he was doing. I'll really need a further blood sample to know for sure what we are dealing with" she said.

"Of course. When?" Mycroft asked hastily.

"Now."

"Good."

The elder Holmes turned to his brother currently sitting on the floor, eyes gazing at nothing.

Taking hold of one of his arms, the elder Holmes pulled up the sleeves of the younger.

"I would like you to hold him. Just in case he moves around suddenly," the doctor asked.

"Yes of course," Mycroft smiled as he gently held down his brother's arm with one hand, and chest with the other, so as not to startle him.

Cleaning his arm, the doctor got her needle ready before giving Mycroft a nod he returned.

In just a few seconds Sherlock's mouth twitched but that was all.

Sighing in relief, Mycroft let go of his brother.

"How long?" he demanded.

"Give me 20 minutes," she said before leaving the room.

In 20 seconds time the elder Holmes looked at his dazed brother who for the most part stopped moving. The normal breaths gave him some relief. At least he wasn't getting worse. Yet.

Soon the doctor arrived to which Mycroft immediately stood up asking, "Well?"

"I have an antidote. He needs to take it right away."

Mycroft nodded as the antidote was administered. And waited.

Once she was done she turned to the eldest Holmes brother.

"The system is still not perfectly out and he will be facing some side effects of the drug."

Mycroft's eyes widened. "Like what?"

 __" _Butterfly!"_ Sherlock shouted randomly as he sat up, staring at the curtains.

"Hallucinations, lightheadedness, vomiting, you name it. Just keep him calm. He needs to rest."

"Understood. Thank you Doctor."

With a nod the doctor packed her things, leaving Mycroft with some medications that would help the pain.

"Gregory," Mycroft announced in a loud manner, assuming his butler was still nearby.

"Yes sir?" he asked.

"Call Doctor Watson Tell him Sherlock will not be home tonight."

"Yes sir."

" _Mycroft…"_

"What Sherlock?"

" _Why was that lady here?"_

"She's a doctor, Sherlock. And was making sure you were kept alive."

" _But I am."_

Mycroft rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

 _Bzzz, bzzzz_

Picking up his phone he looked over the text.

 _John: What happened!? Is he alright?_

 _Mycroft: He was drugged. Needs to stay with me._

 _John: How bad? I can treat him here._

 _Mycroft: Rest is not something you can control at your house. Which he needs._

 _John: He won't stay willingly._

 _Mycroft: He isn't in much of a state to do much about it._

Looking down at his brother who had now fallen asleep, the elder Holmes couldn't help by push a side of his sweaty hair away from the man's forehead.

"Sleep well brother of mine."


	3. Strange Bearings

**Here I Am Brother Dear**

 _By ilovemyboys_

Chapter 2: Strange Bearings

The London detective awoke to a throbbing headache. As he sat up on the furnished living room sofa, pressure over his eyelids made cracking them open not an option. A dizziness came over his head as well before deciding it was best just to lie back down. As the sleuth tried to get his bearings, last night's events came slowly trickling in.

 _A man...a man he was after...he did something...what was it...ah yes...the drugs...and then…_

" _Oh that'ssss right…"_ Sherlock slurred. " _Damn it...he drugged me…_

 _What to do now…"_

Positioning himself up again, Sherlock placed a hand on the glass table in front of him before the tingly feeling inside made him lose the strength to hold himself up as his elbow took the hit.

Sherlock hissed. His head felt heavy too.

" _I guess sitting up is not an option…"_

"It sure is not brother," a stern voice called from behind.

Sherlock sighed with a groan.

"I see we are awake at last," the elder Holmes smiled **curtly.**

" _Yes we are...and we would appreciate some peace and quiet…"_ the younger Holmes replied with still shut eyes.

"Sherlock you need to drink something. Open your eyes."

" _No."_

Mycroft sighed his eyes at his younger brother's stubbornness.

"Sherlock, just open your eyes so you can take a drink."

The younger Holmes held out a shaky hand in the air. Rolling his eyes, Mycroft roughly put the drink in his brother's reach. Taking the cup, Sherlock slowly brought it toward his mouth as he poorly attempted to take a few sips although a good portion still spilled on his lap.

"Oh for goodness sake," Mycroft sighed before lifting his brother's upper back.

" _I can do it…"_ Sherlock slurred.

"Of course you can," Mycroft ordered sternly as he watched his brother gulp down the drink before setting it down gently on the table.

Sherlock sighed restfully for a few moments before asking,

" _Mycroft. What do you want?"_

"What do _I_ want? Sherlock, you have some explaining to do, that's what I want," he said sternly.

" _I was chasing a guy...he pricked me with a needle...and here I am...That's it. Simple."_

"If it was _simple,_ as you say, the drug would have left your system last night and yet here it is _still_ lingering."

" _Well I don't know what to tell you. I'm not a drug specialist,"_ the younger Holmes head bobbed as he said the last part.

"Precisely. Which is what we need to find out."

" _Call Jooooohn….he's a doctor…"_

"Mr. _Watson_ will be of no use here, Sherlock. You clearly have something only the highest professionals can assist you with."

" _Oh coooooome on Mycroft. You don't intend to keep me here all day...we both know that…"_

The older Holmes sighed before standing up.

"Someone will come in shortly with your breakfast. _Do try to be polite."_

Sherlock heard his brother's footsteps echo across the floor as he walked away.

" _Finally."_


	4. Hallucinations? No I don't

**Here I Am Brother Dear**

 _By ilovemyboys_

Chapter 4: Hallucinations? No I don't.

Author's Note: Sorry for this taking so long. I don't write much often anymore but I do want to finish this. Thanks for your support! :)

The younger Holmes had drifted off, he concluded, before suddenly smelling, and in turn almost vomiting, in regards to the scrambled eggs before him.

" _Ugh...Take it away…"_ he groaned, placing a hand upon his head as he laid back against the cushions.

In a few moments he opened his eyes to see the eggs still there. _Staring_ at him...alongside a cup of tea of course.

Deciding tea would at least help with his sickness because, well, it's tea, he took a few sips. Closing his eyes at the comforting drink, he laid back down. However, the instant boredom of doing nothing hit him instantly. Deciding to get up with wobbly no less, he made his way toward the kitchen. Just to see if anyone was around of course. He certainly wasn't hungry.

However, both the kitchen and the living room were vacant. As was Mycroft's office.

Sighing in annoyance at no one to talk to he sat back down upon another couch.

No cases. No violin. No experiments. No dru-no nothing…

The detective's hands began to tap on his knees before he could take it no longer.

" _That'sss it."_

Getting up the detective made his way toward the front door only to feel a sudden nausea overpower him sending him running straight for the bathroom.

After releasing what contents he had in his stomach the Holmes brother felt a fuzzy feeling on his neck and slowly slid down the wall, lying down peacefully on the cold floor.

" _I'll just lie here for a bit…"_

….

"Sir?"

No response.

"Mr. Holmes?"

Still no response.

"Mr. Holmes?" the voice asked louder.

" _What?"_ Sherlock spat.

"Sir, are you alright?"

" _I'm fffine…"_

"Are you sure, sir?"

 _Oh my bloody hell, why won't he leave me alone…_

"Very well sir. Apologies sir."

 _Wait. Did I just say that out loud?_ Sherlock frowned.

He didn't know how long it had been. Only that he must have been in and out of sleep. Occasionally he would hear the footsteps of who was obviously a maid based on her gentle footsteps and high heels occasionally stopping before continuing on again. Sherlock heard the voice of a butler as well, complete with a sophisticated British drawl.

 _This has got to be the_ _ **worst**_ _day of my life…_

"Sherlock?"

 _Not again…_

"Sherlock, get off the floor for goodness sake!"

Opening his eyes Sherlock was met with the condescending stare of his older brother standing by the doorway.

" _So..you've come back have you?"_

"I do live here."

" _I didn't think it would be posh enough for you…"_

"Go ahead, act like a child," his brother replied.

" _I will!"_ Sherlock shouted. " _I will do as I please…"_ the younger Holmes trailed off.

"Fine. Stay here."

And with that, Mycroft left without a word, leaving Sherlock somewhat surprised. Usually his brother fought him more than that.

 _He's getting tired...And old…_

The black tiles of the floor had a crisscross pattern he observed and each was inside a circle. But then that circle was connected to another one so then which pattern belonged to which circle? Using all his strength to focus his gaze, Sherlock blinked a few times to clear away the blurriness. But it was the shapes that kept circling around him. Like...facts in a case he was solving in his mind palace...But he wasn't there. Before he knew it the shapes started to float up above the ground.

" _Curious…"_ Sherlock stared.

The shapes then twisted and turned as the went toward each other, then apart.

Lifting up a hand to touch them, Sherlock was met with nothing.

" _How strange...I need a sample...But how…"_

Before he could react the shapes began to slowly levitate toward the entrance.

" _No, no! Wait!"_ Sherlock unsteadily got up as he followed them out the door.

Mycroft Holmes was at his desk _trying_ to concentrate on analyzing some classified documents for the SIS before hearing a _thump_ in the hallway floor across from his office.

Closing his eyes, the elder Holmes attempted to ignore the meddlesome thoughts of concern that came into his head concerning his brother. He was perfectly fine. He had been living on his own for years for goodness sake.

Just as those thoughts crossed his mind Sherlock's hand came into view as he slowly pulled himself up into an army crawl moving slowly across the room.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" Mycroft called with annoyance.

" _I need to catch them...Need them for experiment…"_

"What?" Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed.

" _I need to find it...it's...somewhere…."_

"Do as you wish brother," Mycroft sighed going back to his paperwork.

Sherlock looked upon the swirling shapes moving together, than apart in front of him. Reaching out a hand he attempted to grab one only to have his hand move right through it.

Sherlock looked on, confused. Then tried again. And again. Nothing.

Puzzled, the younger Holmes attempted to stand up before seeing black spots around him. Resting a hand on the nearby wall he hung his head, blinking his eyes slowly to clear away the dizziness he felt. He soon felt himself slowly burning up a sweat.

" _Thisss isn't good…"_

Making his way toward his brother, Sherlock slowly dragged his feet toward the older Holmes as he placed his hand once more upon the archway to the room, eyes begging to close.

 _Not yet.._ he thought.

Mycroft, lost in his work, barely noticed his brother in the doorway.

"What is it Sherlock?" he mumbled, eyes still on the papers before him.

" _Mycroft..._ Sherlock spoke in a low voice.

"What?" Mycroft asked again, eyes still on his work.

" _I uh...I…._ "

Sherlock could feel the light-headedness hit him full on. And an even worse headache….

 _No no no...no not this…._

"Sherlock?"

Mycroft looked up at his brother, now with a hint of concern on his face as he looked at Sherlock.

In the next few seconds Sherlock could see the look of concern on his brother's face to one of fear as he rose up from his chair.

Sherlock could barely hear any words his brother said as he felt himself gently guided to the floor as he slide down against the wall.

At one point his brother's face was closer than he expected, his mouth saying words he couldn't distinguish. He must be lying down.

Then Mycroft was gone.

At some point he came back and Sherlock felt a cool rag against his forehead.

 _That's nice…_

But the headache persisted. Getting stronger. The pain in his head went from throbbing to pounding.

" _Urrraahh!"_ Sherlock yelled.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!"

Sherlock could feel his body sweating profusely. His chest rising repeatedly up and down. The heat kept radiating from his body.

This was too much...He...he couldn't take it anymore…

 _I need to...get out...too much…._

Suddenly the pain slowly dimmed down until exhaustion hit him and he closed his eyes.


	5. Hello Friend

Here I Am Brother Dear

By ilovemyboys

Chapter 4: Hello Friend

Notes: I know it's short but I wanted to give you guys something. :)

Mycroft looked up in concern at his brother. He was light-headed, sweaty, and frankly about to pass out. As Sherlock slowly slid down the wall, Mycroft rushed to his side as he slowly led him down to the floor.

Seeing his brother would be alright for a minute he briskly made his way towards the bathroom, grabbed a rag and ran cold water over it, then made his way quickly back to his brother.

Upon entering the room he could hear Sherlock mumbling incoherently with his head lying to the side on the floor. Placing the rag upon his brother's forehead he could see Sherlock visibly relax. However, it was shortly lived. Sherlock's breathing abruptly picked up speed as his chest rose up and down rapidly. Suddenly his brother let out a scream.

Something was seriously wrong.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted, trying to get his attention. "Sherlock!"

No luck.

"Damn it! Maria!"

"Yes sir!" his maid called from the doorway.

"Get me a sedative! Bottom drawer of bathroom!"

"Yes sir!" she replied before dashing off.

"Come on Sherlock…" Mycroft looked worriedly at his brother, obviously in an incredible amount of pain.

Seconds later Maria came back. Taking the sedative Mycroft prepared it before holding onto his brother's arm and administering a dose.

In 10 seconds time Sherlock's body visibly began to relax and his breathing returned to normal.

Sighing in relief at his new development, Mycroft sat back and closed his eyes.

"Sir? Would you like me to call an ambulance?" Maria asked.

"No, thank you though, Maria."

"Very well sir," she replied and walked off.

Shaking his head, Mycroft took out his phone and dialed.

…...

Sherlock awoke to a splitting headache.

 _I feel horrible…_

"You look it."

Frowning at the voice that certainly did not belong to Mycroft, Sherlock slowly opened his eyes.

" _John?"_ Sherlock asked puzzled.

"Right you are," John gave a slight smile. " _You_ on the other hand are certainly not all right," the doctor laid back on the couch opposite the detective.

" _That obvious, huh?"_

"Just a bit."

Sherlock smiled, only so subtly.

" _Where's Mycroft?"_

"He had work to do. I figure even he can't have top government doctors at his disposal 24/7."

" _That's surprising…"_

"Yes, well…" John trailed off.

Silence.

" _Sooo... you're my new doctor?"_ Sherlock's words slurred.

"For the time, yes."

" _What about your job?"_

"I took the day off. Personal matters in all."

" _I get to be a 'personal matter' now, huh?"_

"Don't press your luck. The only reason I came here is that Mycroft personally contacted me asking for my help, which as you know isn't a normal occurrence."

Sherlock remained silent.

"So! I hear you have a variety of symptoms from dizziness, fainting spells, high fever, _delusions,_ something about seeing butterflies or-"

" _-Shapes! They were there…"_ Sherlock trailed off.

"Riiight," John nodded, obviously not buying it. "Well those _shapes_ led you to screaming out in pain from a throbbing headache, leading Mycroft to get a syringe just to sedate you."

" _I_ _ **remember**_ _John,"_ Sherlock replied testily.

"I doubt that. You weren't exactly conscious to remember much of anything."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

" _So I've been_ _ **told**_ _then…"_

"Yes well. That isn't exactly normal. Even for you. Which is why I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you for a few days. I know Mycroft's doctor said you were drugged with something. Do you have _any_ memory of that at all?"

Sherlock remained silent.

"Right. Of course," John sighed. "Well! _I'm_ certainly going to make use of my situation here and getting myself a cup of tea. Care for any?"

Sherlock rested his neck on the couch with a sigh.  
"I take that as a no," John shook his head leaving the detective behind.


	6. Recovery

Here I Am Brother Dear

 _By ilovemyboys_

Chapter 5: Recovery

 **Author's Note:** Sorry the ending is a little weak but I wasn't really going anywhere else with this. It was more of a one-shot but I do have ideas for more stories…

Sherlock awoke to a slightly better feeling than before. His head was only mildly throbbing, his nausea was almost non-existent, and he actually felt hungry, which in itself was a rarity due to the normal distraction of the detective's mind palace or a good murder case allowing him to not feel any physical needs. He also noticed that he was on a couch, Mycroft's living room couch to be exact. It was then at that moment that Sherlock got a desire to relax in his designated bed, aka a spare room, he woke up at often in his drug days after Mycroft picked him up at some hole in the wall junkie hangout. Despite the annoyance of having been picked up by his older brother, _for goodness sake he could take care of himself!,_ he then had to deal with Mycroft's lectures about how he was tearing his brilliant mind a part and so on and so forth...And yet right now...that bed seemed _very_ appealing...

Slowly sitting himself up he dragged his feet across the floor, passing by John, asleep on a nearby couch, and up the stairs, eyes half closed. Opening the door to his room, he haphazardly shut the door before flopping onto his bed and into blissful sleep.

Mycroft had to wake up early that day, important meetings and so on. John would take care of his brother if need be but Sherlock did seem better last night. Still, the elder Holmes went to check on him as he made his way down the stairs. Glancing over at the living room he saw Dr. Watson asleep in a position that he would surely regret when he awoke. However, upon turning to check on his brother, he found the younger Holmes missing. A hint of alarm came over him before he decided it was likely his sick brother may be in the bathroom. After seeing Sherlock wasn't in any rooms on the bottom floor, one conclusion came to his mind. Making his way quickly up the stairs he slowly cracked the door open to a small, quaint room down the hall from his own that revealed curly, brown hair hanging over blankets. Sighing internally the elder Holmes slowly walked toward his brother and looking down placed a hand on his forehead.

 _It's lower. That's good,_ he thought.

His face wasn't as clammy either and his breathing had normalized. He should be fine now but Mycroft wasn't taking any chances. As long as Doctor Watson remained here, no more problems should arise. Before the doctor fell asleep Mycroft showed him where he stored all the medicine and emergency kits, making it clear Sherlock was not to know the locations of either given his past tendencies to use those items for his own, personal experiments.

Heading back down quietly so as not to wake the doctor, he came toward the bottom of the stairs and was about to text John Sherlock's whereabouts when a tired voice asked, "I assume he's still here then?"

Looking down at Doctor Watson Mycroft gave a curt smile.

"That he is. Surprised he actually had the sense to sleep in his own bed..."

"Yeah well...Sometimes he will surprise you."

Well John, I must be off. Do take care of my brother while I am away and call me immediately if anything _new_ arises," he added that last part sternly.

John nodded groggily. As soon as he heard the door shut, his eyes closed once again.

Sherlock woke up earlier than he thought and tried to go back to sleep. But it was no use and he decided he must have gotten enough sleep, which suited him as sleep was boring, and headed down the stairs. He was greeted by the smell of eggs and bacon and...burnt toast.

"Good morning Sherlock," John called from the kitchen.

The doctor's hearing was either getting better or Sherlock wasn't quite as stealthy as he thought as he made his way toward the dining room table, before dropping his head against it.

"Think you're ready for some breakfast?" John looked over as he scrambled some eggs.

Sherlock just nodded.

"Good. That's certainly an improvement," John said as he finished placing the remainder of the eggs on the two plates of bacon before setting one in front of Sherlock followed by silverware and tea sat down before the two men.

"Ah. Finally," John smiled taking a bite of the eggs.

Sherlock slowly lifted his fork from the food before him and took a bite. Fearing his body might still be prone to nausea he took slow bites before swallowing. Only then did he notice John looking at him.

"What?" He asked suspiciously.

"Good. You look fine. Nausea gone then?" John continued to work on his food.

"So far it seems to be the case..."

"Good. Whatever was in your system should be out now but keep an eye out for _any_ changes, got it?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his mother-hen of a flatmate.

"Sherlock?"

" _Yes!"_

"Good. Oh! Lestrade brought some cases over for you."

"Where?" Sherlock replied instantly.

"Knew that would cheer you up," John smiled.

"Where?" Sherlock repeated.

"I'll tell you once you finish your breakfast."

Sighing, Sherlock irritably finished eating.

After a few moments of silence Sherlock asked, "Did Lestrade find the guy?"

John sighed.

"Not yet. But he's got some leads." He paused and looked at the detective with a serious expression. "We'll find him."

"Oh gosh John, I already know that. What I don't know is what's in those cases!"

Sherlock huffed.

"Just some new unexplained homicides," John grinned as he took a sip of his tea. Sherlock looked at him with wide eyes.

"Bottom shelf under sink," he added.

In seconds the detective sprint from his chair as John shook his head at Sherlock's pure excitement, not of a gruesome murder itself, no Sherlock wasn't a criminal or a psychopath, sociopath yes...but high functioning. Now his...friend...simply wanted to solve something no one else could. A crime only belonging to Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
